Antebellum: #3 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The symmetry of the heavens
And the fanciful sordidness
Of the bent clouds -
They are all for you.
Bequeathed by time
And the gods.

You could have fitted
Through the seams
If you wore the heavens
Upon your body.
The seraphs will be
Jealous
And inferno will be purged
Of filth.
You are a waterfall of pristine splendor
And they all know that.
Even I know this.
But there is something amiss,
Like that enraged thunder
Without rain.
You’re a hurricane
And you swept all over
These puny cities
Inside of me.

I gave you a trembling
Glass of water
And you gave demure sips
Like a woman
Holding a dagger as she weeps
There is such sinister
Allure in this.

I pulled away.
The warfare exacerbates,
I must look away.